


stay awake with me now

by CharlotteDaBookworm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Shadow Armiger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 17:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19404448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteDaBookworm/pseuds/CharlotteDaBookworm
Summary: The blade strikes true. The barrier shatters.Blood flies.Nyxrages.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own FFXV

***

The barrier flickers.

Regis looks at him, love and grief and apologies written all over his face. _I love you_ , he mouths, _I’m sorry_. And Nyx shakes his head and reaches out desperately, fingers brushing against the barrier – catching there, against the familiar energy that hummed with warmth, unable to go further – and his eyes burn with tears.

He wants to scream.

The blade strikes true. Regis gasps.

The barrier shatters.

Blood flies.

It splatters across his face, warm and red, and time seems to _freeze_ as iron burns at Nyx’s tongue. As Regis’, as his King’s, as his _husband’s_ blood trails down his face like bloody tears, trails of fire across his cheeks, and he can’t breathe.

Can’t hear past the ringing in his ears.

Can’t focus beyond the blood staining his skin, beyond the look on his beloved’s face as he reaches out, beyond the sword that is still embedded in his chest.

The sword that may as well be embedded in Nyx’s own chest.

His blood _burns_ in his veins and Nyx knows, he _knows_ , that he should leave – that his King had ordered him to take the Princess and flee – but he cannot bring himself to move. His feet are locked into place and he cannot look away from the monster who had swung the sword and his mouth twists into a silent snarl.

There are hands on his arms, the Princess trying to hold him back like he had done her, and Nyx ducks and spins and dodges them without a second thought, reaching deep inside of himself into the place that _hurt_.

The layer of protection and power that wrapped itself around his soul _burns_ now, burns with grief and pain, and Nyx can feel that warmth leaving him and he reaches inside and grasps ahold of it with an iron grip, pulling it close and refusing to let it go.

Refusing to let _him_ go.

_No_ , Nyx snarls, holding on tight with a mental grip even as the magic tries to leave him, even as it slowly fades away. _I will not lose him_ , he swears, and he digs deeper, past the power that runs in his veins and into the core of it, the core that radiates _love_ and _devotion_ and _Regis_ , and he holds it tight-

-Regis falls to his knees, the sound of bone striking stone echoing past the buzzing that drowned out all else-

-and then, he lets it go.

Power surges.

Lights flicker.

Nyx **_burns_**.

A shadow swirls into existence around him, all power and avenging love and pinpointed rage and surging _hate_ , and he takes a single step forward, towards _Glauca_ , and the shadow explodes outwards like a bomb, fast as lightning, all of the concentrated power of a storm.

His world goes dark.

When he comes back to himself, it’s to the sound of crumbling stone and his own laboured breaths, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. His opponent is impaled on the wall, pierced by weapons of shadow that shimmer in and out of existence. Dead.

He takes a deep breath, staggering a step forward. The warmth returns – curling in the centre of his chest, smaller but still _there_ , and his fists relax at his sides.

Glauca clatters to the floor.

Nyx pays him no mind, staggering towards Regis – towards his husband, who is somehow still alive, whose chest still rises and falls, by some miracle or curse – on weak legs and crashes to his knees beside him, unable to stand anymore.

The breath he takes trembles.

He reaches out with hands that shake like a child on their first hunt, brushing his fingers against a too-still face. Regis’ eyes flutter open, focusing on him blurrily.

He sobs.

Wrapping him in his arms and clutching him close, careful of the sword that Nyx daren’t touch, he presses a kiss to his husband’s head, cups his face and brushes his thumbs against his cheeks, presses their foreheads together and holds him close, wrapping himself around him like he could shield him from the world.

_“Don’t leave,_ ” he whispers, he begs, he sobs. “ _Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, Reg, please, don’t leave me, you can’t die on me, you can’t, please,”_ tears run down his face, intermingling with blood that isn’t his, dripping down his nose and chin.

Regis takes a shuddering, wheezing breath.

A hand, weak and slow and shaking, reaches up to brush against his braids and Nyx catches it as it begins to fall; cradling it tightly against his chest and smiling shakily down at his King.

_“I love you so much, please don’t leave me, please don’t die, **please**_ ,” he gasps, he sobs, he pleas. _“I can’t lose you,”_ he says, and he knows it true, knows that he cannot live with having lost this man. He can’t lose anyone else. Can’t lose his husband, especially not like this.

He can’t.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers, he screams. “Old Man, _Ramuh_. _Please, I can’t. I can’t do this without him. Please, Old Man, I can’t lose him._ Tidemother _. Please, save him. I cannot lose him, I cannot live without him, and I will do anything just, **please**_. Save him _.”_ There’s nothing but the sound of his lover’s fading breaths and the crumbling of stone and the muffled gasp of the Oracle. “ _Bahamut, Shiva, Ifrit, Titan, Carbuncle,_ anyone _, please_ ,” he entreats, he yells, lifting his head to scream at the ceiling, shaking with grief and desperation and tears.

_“_ **Please**.”

Nothing.

He shudders, sobs shaking his entire body, and he cradles Regis close as he cries, tears flowing free and fast, still whispering pleas under his breath like a mantra, like a lifeline, begging him not to leave, not to die, telling him he loves him over and over and _over_.

_“Please_ ,” he begs as his husband’s blood stains his hands and his face, as every breath that Regis takes weakens, as his eyes slowly drift closed, as he tries desperately to slow bleeding that he can do nothing about. _“I love you so much, Reg. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease **please**_.”

Regis shudders out a tiny breath.

He stills.

Nyx sobs.

_“Please_.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mwahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahaha
> 
> sorry, not sorry
> 
> shadow armigers (which is what Nyx used to kill Glauca, who he doesn't know is Drautos yet and honestly only managed by surprise) are an idea from the ffxv discord that somehow ended up in this (because I just couldn't write the, frankly far more satisfying, scene of Nyx murdering Glauca in a rage with his blades). anyway, the second part to this will be out in the morning
> 
> have fun :D


	2. Chapter 2

***

Consciousness swims back to him slowly, piece by piece. Sound first, and then smell, and then touch, all distant, numb almost, that it takes him a long moment to piece any of it together.

Something beeps rhythmically by his ear, the sound low but distinct. Familiar. There is a sharp tang on the back of his tongue, alongside something more earthy and less strong. A weight rests over his body, all of his limbs feeling like anchors, pinning him to the- to the bed? Is he in a bed? And there is something solid against his hand, holding it? Another tickling his arm, and it the sensation feels familiar.

Like he should know it.

Should recognise it.

With a small frown, he drags his eyes open, the simple act taking far more effort than he’d like to admit to, blinking blurrily in the sudden, stark light.

His eyes slowly focus.

He blinks again.

_A hospital?_ He thinks, taking in what he can see, his numb brain sluggishly processing the IV in his arm and the machines around him, and he finds himself reaching for memories that are just out of reach because: _Why am I in a hospital?_

There’s someone curled in the chair beside him, head resting again the side of the bed, but he can’t quite see who; the angle is all wrong.

He leans forward, trying to sit up, to _see_ , and then his world flares with **pain**.

It’s like someone reached into his chest and pulled and _carved_ and he can’t breathe past the pain, can’t think past it, and it settles over his body like a hot blanket and it _burns._ It burns but it’s a cold burn and he hunches over instinctively to try and stop the pain, but it just makes it all the worse and he. can’t. _breathe_.

And then there are arms on his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed and murmuring reassurances and fiddling with his IV and cold numbness rushes through his veins, cooling the fire that burned in his chest, and the breath he takes shakes with relief and adrenaline and fading pain.

He blinks open eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed.

“Hey,” a figure haloed by light murmurs softly, swaying slightly for his perch on the side of the bed, his braids brushing against his shoulders.

_Wha-?_ He mouths, the word coming out like a gasp.

Nyx smiles at him. “You’re an idiot, Reg, and I love you,” he says, something heavy in his eyes as he looks at him with the same fondness that he always did. Regis was helpless but to smile back, still confused. He reaches out with a gentle hand, brushing hair back behind his ear and then resting softly on his check for a moment before he pulls back, just a little. “But if you ever try to do anything like that again, I’ll kill you myself. King or not. Husband or not.” He threatens, eyes teary.

Everything rushes back.

_Oh_ , he swallows, guilt – but not regret, he can’t regret it, only what came of it – settling over him as he remembers the barrier, remembers telling them to go, remembers being stabbed (and when he looks down now, he can see the bandages wrapped around his chest), remembers the man in front of him clutching him in his arms and _begging_.

He has no idea how he’s still alive.

“ _Sorry_ ,” he forces out, the word a croak from a hoarse throat that leaves him trying to stifle a coughing fit that he’d really prefer not to have.

A glass of water is pressed to his lips. “Drink, love, before you hurt yourself.”

Regis drinks.

“ _How long-?”_ It felt like minutes ago, but it can’t have been. Nyx looks tired, yes, exhausted honestly, but not like he’d been in a battle recently.

“It’s been four days.”

_Four days_. “Noctis?” A flash of the last time he’d seen his Shield. “Clarus?”

Nyx smiles, gripping his hand reassuringly. “Clarus is in much the same state as you, alive. You’re both looking at a long recovery and long-term consequences, but the fact that you both lived even long enough to get you to the hospital is frankly several miracles stacked on top of each other.” He pauses, letting Regis take in the news that his Shield is _alive_ , and then he continues, before he can say anything. “Noctis and his friends came back to the city the moment they saw the news. He’s at the Citadel at the moment, he’ll be here in an hour or so. He’s doing a brilliant job with negotiations and everything, you’ll be so proud of him.”

He’s always proud of his son, but… “Negotiations?”

“Ah, yes,” Nyx glances away, a little sheepish. “He’s been finalising the peace negotiations with Niflheim.”

_“What?”_ Has he woken in some foreign universe?

“Cor took exception to the invasion and your injuries and took out his anger on a transport that happened to be flying past. The transport happened to be carrying most of Niflheim’s upper echelon, including the Emperor.” He says, offhand.

Regis stares.

“He’s been very apologetic about accidentally assassinating the Emperor,” Nyx assures him earnestly, with a smile that says that Cor is not apologetic about it in the slightest and that Nyx agrees with him entirely.

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought of his friend and his husband _plotting_.

“The war’s over,” he says instead of commenting on any of that. He can leave that to Clarus, Cor had always listened to him better anyway. His childhood tutors would despair at the way his words tilt at the end, turning a statement into a slightly dumbfounded question.

“Niflheim surrendered three days ago now,” Nyx agrees, smile shading apologetic and understanding as he just blinks up at him, unable to process the reality that a war he’s been fighting his entire life is suddenly over.

This feels like a dream. Or maybe he actually did die, in that room below the Citadel, and this is just his afterlife. But no, his soul has always been bound for the Ring, he knows that.

Warm lips press against his head, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Go to sleep, Reg, I’ll wake you when Noct gets here.”

With his husband beside him, the knowledge that his friends were alive and his people safe, and the promise that he will see his son soon, Regis drifts into sleep.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet none of you expected this :D
> 
> Welcome to an everyone lives (but for Aldercapt, but who cares about him anyway?) happy ending to one of my regis/nyx fics. I know, I'd be surprised too if I hadn't planned it out this way.
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you think (or just scream at me, I'm chill with that)


End file.
